Photo Courtesy of NME
Season three of the popular Netflix series “Sex Education” sets out to ask – and answer – a question posed in the seventh episode of this season: “How progressive is too progressive?” In other words, when do nudity, sexually explicit language and conversations about the birds and the bees cross the line between appropriate and inappropriate?
This season, which aired on Friday, Sept. 17, has since remained in the Top 10 in the U.S. on Netflix. It follows multiple central storylines, each with their own style of humor, healing and relatability. For example, the audience watches Adam’s father as he deals with the aftermath of being fired from his position at Moordale Secondary. The audience can also observe Jean and Jakob trying to navigate both pregnancy and their relationships. Throughout the season, different characters explore their gender identity and expression as well as the complex interconnectedness of high school all while love triangles tangle and friendships falter and reconcile.
“Sex Education” utilizes absurdity and the bizarre to emphasize the way life can feel out of control – and to elicit a laugh. Aimee and Steve share a commitment goat, Rahim throws his own feces out of a moving bus and many more secondary plot points diverge from the main storyline to engage audiences with the somewhat quirky aspects of life.
The dramatics and humor are all there to keep the audience feeling light during the process of uncovering and unpacking some of the heavier aspects of intimacy and growing up. But they’re also there to educate audiences.
In one of the final episodes of the season, the entire school performs a sex-positive night of theatrics, complete with a music video about poking fun at things like douching and normalizing conversations surrounding the clitoris. Hilarious, indeed, but also extremely helpful in undermining the societal standard and stereotypes that have been built around conversations about sex.
While a full-blown lights show and a choir rendition of “Fuck the Pain Away” by Peaches might be considered extremely inappropriate, presenting it on a television show not only creates a poignant and eternally relevant scene for the show, but it also makes space for similar conversations about sexual autonomy once the television is turned off.
Initially, a few of the season’s storylines felt boring or unrelatable. A depressing tale about a dad going through a divorce or a couple having a child later in their lives is not necessarily engaging to the show’s target audience. However, by the end of the season, viewers get to visualize a fuller image of each character’s path of emotional growth, no matter their age. This concept is not restricted to any age group, generation or kind of person. Instead, it is universally understandable and provides a stable foundation for both comedy and character development.
The way in which the characters emulate and reflect the audience is this show’s greatest pull. Yes, it does have a jarring title and likable central characters, but what gets audiences to sit down and watch the entire third season in one night are the moments when they feel represented. Especially the moments where it may feel embarrassing or scary to see themselves on screen: A student at Moordale, Dex, measures his penis size; Aimee uses a mirror to examine her vulva; Layla painfully binds themself every morning with gauze.
The season is inappropriate and uncomfortable, but it also grounds viewers in its plot and its pragmatism. It sets out to prove that, while the line between sexual liberation and danger does exist, it is much worse to hide from the concept of progressive sexual education than to embrace a model that acknowledges students’ realities.
